Page 67 of Omega Hunted

“He’s not ours,” I whispered.

Cassian’s ear twitched, but he didn’t wake.

My cat huffed and tucked himself around Asha. Still not close enough to term, Brec had said. Not dangerous by itself, not hopeless, not a disaster waiting to happen if we were careful, but not enough. Every day mattered. Every meal mattered. Every hour of warmth and rest mattered. I rested my palm over the place she’d moved and waited until she answered me with another slow push.

“Morning,” I whispered to her.

Cassian opened one amber eye.

I froze. Ridiculous after everything, but fear that old didn’t disappear because someone kissed you softly in the dark. His wolfy gaze fixed on my hand still buried in his fur, then lifted to my face.

“Morning,” I said, quieter this time.

His tail thumped once to the side of the bed.

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, small and rusty and unfamiliar. Cassian blinked, apparently offended, then lowered his head again with great dignity. The sound of my own amusement startled me more than anything he’d done. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken and laughed before fear found me. I couldn’t remember the last time morning had felt like something other than survival.

“You’re ridiculous,” I told him.

He huffed warm air against the blanket.

Asha moved again, and I rolled awkwardly, trying to find a position that didn’t pull at my back or put too much pressure through my hips. Cassian lifted his head at once, alert now, and I felt the change in him. Not panic exactly, but readiness. He was always ready when it came to me. Ready to help, or back away if I needed that instead.

“I’m okay,” I said. “She’s just making her opinions known.”

His gaze dropped to my stomach, and something softened in his wolf’s face. It shouldn’t have been possible to read an animal that clearly, but I’d learned him. The angle of his ears, the stillness of his body, the careful way he watched me without demanding anything. He stared at my belly as if Asha was already real to him, not just a risk or a responsibility or something hidden beneath my skin.

That undid me a little.

Cassian shifted, the wolf folding into the man in a smooth ripple of muscle and shadow, and I glanced away automatically, heat rising in my face because he never seemed to remember he was naked after he shifted. Or maybe he did remember and didn’t care. Either way, the air changed at once, filling with warm skin and wolf and the faint scent of sleep. He reached for the sweats he’d left folded on the chair, dragged them on, and only then came back to sit on the very edge of the mattress, leaving space between us even though we both knew I’d slept half the night with my hand in his fur.

“How’s your back?” he asked.

“Ashamed of itself, hopefully.”

His mouth twitched. “That bad?”

“It’s not worse.” That was the phrase Brec had told me to use if I didn’t want Cassian hovering. Not worse. Still manageable. No pattern. No bleeding. Baby fine. We had a list now, taped to the inside of the wardrobe door where I could see it without feeling watched.

Cassian studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Tea?”

The question was ordinary. That was the dangerous part. Cassian asking if I wanted tea, the snow trapping us inside, the wolf sleeping beside my nest, the kiss still warm between us. It was starting to feel ordinary, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

“Please,” I said. “In my mug.”

“Your mug?”

“The fluffy wolf one.”

His expression shifted, grief flickering through him so quickly I might have missed it if I hadn’t learned to watch him. Then it became almost fond.

“That was Raff’s favorite mug,” he said, and I froze. That was a boundary I’d crossed, and I didn’t know how to take it back. “He bought it for me as a joke.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what to say. “It’s a great mug,” was all I could come up with.

He stood, but he didn’t leave straight away. His attention dropped to my mouth, and the air between us changed so fast my breath caught. I thought of last night. Of his hand at the back of my neck. Of how careful he’d been until I’d fisted my hand in his sweatshirt and tugged him closer. He looked as though he was thinking about it too.

Then Cassian bent, slowly enough that I could stop him if I wanted to. I didn’t. His lips brushed mine, warm and careful, a morning kiss so gentle it hurt more than the one before. It was over almost before I understood he’d given it to me, and when he straightened, his eyes were amber around the edges.